Welcome to One Busy Momma! The Blog for Busy Moms by one Busy Mom.....

Welcome to my blog. One Busy Momma is my space to rant about my life and the things that happen in it. I have a crazy life - and instead of focusing on the crazy - I like to focus on the funny. Because if I focused on the craziness - well, I'd have been shipped off to an institution long, long ago. And while, I'll admit, there are some days when being institutionalized sounds PRETTY GOOD compared to making ANOTHER diorama at 1am - I'd rather be right where I am - in my messy house with my not so perfect kids making crooked dioramas in the middle of the night.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

OMG! I did it! TWICE! I P90Xed my Bad-Assed self - twice! And I'm still breathing and blogging and squatting to pee. Well - alrighty! Now - granted - I've only done 2 of the 90 days - but I did 2 of them and I'm actually going to do the third tomorrow! And for me - that's saying something!

So - here's the low-down. Day one for me was "Core Synergystics" which is sort of like Pilates on steroids. It's all about strengthening your core - which is really super important for everyone because your core muscles support your back - and as PC will tell you - back surgery is no fun. So I popped the DVD in - expecting hell on earth. And actually - it was really ok. I made it through THE ENTIRE DVD. My SUPER SIZED SELF - made it through the whole thing! Now - I didn't do every rep. And certain moves had me watching and rewinding the dvd and then doing 5 out of the 15 reps - but I did it. And there was one move that PC had to break down for me and show me how to do - but I did it!

Day 2 was supposed to be yesterday - but Bella came home from school throwing up -AGAIN. And this time it was really, really bad. Like as in almost hospital bad. She threw up 18 times in 7 hours. So, there was no P90X for me last night. But I woke up and did my day 2 which was CardioX this morning. And once again - I expected hell on earth. And it was hard. Really hard. And I wasn't able to do every single move. I skipped about 3 of the moves to suck wind and drink water - but I did the rest. And parts of me perspired that I really didn't think COULD perspire - like my lower arms. Do they even have sweat glands? WTF? CardioX is a mixture of really hard yoga- which is the one form of physical activity that I actually do enjoy and am somewhat good at because I am pretty bendy...but that's a topic for another kind of blog! :) Then it moves into Kenpo Karate - which is sort of like that crazy Tae-Bo stuff we used to do pre-babies. And then he gets into some fun sports drills like tires and jump shots. All in all - it is difficult - but not insane.

And all of this revelation over the past 2 days makes me really, really ANGRY at.....JILLAIN FREAKING MICHAELS! The crazy bitchy lady trainer from The Biggest Loser. The one who has the workout DVD - "The 30-Day Shred". I bought the 30 Day Shred because I was told that was great, it would get me into great shape and that it only takes 30minutes. And hey - if all of those fatties on the Biggest Loser Ranch can do it - I can certainly do it. But Alas - I can't do it!!!!

Sookie, Glynnis, Her Awesomeness and I all bought it and tried it. Now, Glynnis, as I have already stated, is a specimen of physical perfection - so of course, she was like - "Hey this is FREAKING AWESOME!!!" I love Glynnis - but her opinion of the shred doesn't count. And she is P90X-ing right along with me and is my most ardent cheerleader. Sookie has been shredding and is, herself, a specimen of physical perfection as well. (The Biotch has a 6-pack) However - Sookie has back issues and while shredding - Sookie hurt her knees! Nonetheless - Sookie has remained faithful to the Shred, has moved on to level two AND her pants are falling off of her already trim waist. (Go Sookie!) Her Awesomeness has not weighed in on her progress - but as she is so freaking awesome, I'm sure that she is able to Shred, takeover a company or two all while dusting, vacuming and running 2 loads of laundry AND clipping the dog's nails. For whatever reason - I CANNOT do the Shred.

It is only 30 minutes long - but it is 30 minutes of NONSTOP torture. 30 minutes of HIGH IMPACT nonstop torture. And there are jumping jacks involved. Jumping Jacks have become a REAL issue for me ever since Jack was born. Let's just say that ever since Jack was born, jumping around and I don't mix well. Jumping around leads to bad, bad things happening. Bad things that require discreet absorbent adult thingamabobers and all sorts of kiegel excercises! In other words - I PEE my PANTS a little when I jump around!!!! So during the Shred - I have Jillian SCREAMING at me not to stop - that I'm a big fat loser if I stop and that 400 pound people on the ranch can do jumping jacks - and while I'm processing this information, and jumping around the family room - I'm desperately trying to NOT WET MY PANTS! HOW on EARTH can THAT be good for me?

So, somehow - in my mind - I have equated not being able to complete the 30-minute 30-Day Shred with being a totally fat loser who can't possibly be fit enough to even start the P90X. What is WRONG with me??????? Why on earth did I let a horse faced screaming banchee convince me that I CAN"T do something? I gave birth to two babies! One of those babies was backwards and broke my tailbone on her way out. AND while that was happening the nurse was telling me that I could not have any pain meds because I wasn't pushing "effectively". But - I got her out. Why on earth would I think that the person who was able to live through THAT wonderful experience would not be able to do anything that she put her mind to? MAYBE, just maybe the problem is that the 30-Day Shred while being totally great for some people is NOT totally great for me. And instead of giving it away, as I should have done long, long ago, I made myself stick with it. And I allowed myself to fail over and over and over again. YIKES. I would never have let Bella or Jack do something like that? Why can't I seem to treat myself as well as I'd treat my kids?

So - on to bigger and better things. Day 3 of the P90X begins tomorrow. PC just made me a "recovery" drink - and it wasn't all that bad. He called it the "diet pepsi" version of chocolate milk. And he was correct. I'm headed to the grocery store today to get the nutrition plan part of this P90X thing going.

I got an email yesterday that the "super-sized' bridesmaid dress has arrived at the bridal shop. I'm going to pick it up on Monday. 70 days and counting until the big wedding. Probably not going to be down 50 pounds by then. Carrie is going to need more than a day or two to alter the dress - so I really probably have about 55 days to get to where I'm going to be for the wedding. My goal is to have Carrie alter it back down to a normal size. She's a freaking whiz - I have no doubts that she will be able to work her Carrie magic and make the dress look perfect. The question is - will I be able to do MY magic and make ME look as good as I can????? I'll keep you posted....

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Well - it's come to this. A drastic, no holds barred attempt at whipping my fat butt into shape in the next 90 days. Actually, I have less than 90 days to get in shape. You see, my darling brother is getting married on June 5th and his beautiful bride-to-be has graciously asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. And against my better judgement, I said "yes".

Now, it's not that I don't want to be in the wedding - I do. It's just that I feel that I've reached a certain age where one tends to NOT want to parade down the aisle in front of every distant relative you haven't seen since YOU were the beautiful bride, outfitted in brightly colored chiffon.

When I was the blushing bride, 11 or so years ago, I floated down the aisle in a size 8, custom fitted, couture gown fresh from a trunk show of one-of-a-kind couture gowns. It was made of the finest silk and most beautiful, hand-made lace, delicately beaded and artfully draped to show off my tiny waist and my 20-something year-old beautifully displayed and expensively pushed-up and supported bosom.

Fast forward to 2010. The waist isn't exactly tiny anymore and no amount of money will be able to support this bosom after two babies have done their due dilligence in destroying any semblance of what once was able to be artfully displayed by Victoria and her many secrets. Instead of a one-of-a-kind couture gown, I will be wearing a beautiful, strapless, chiffon bridesmaids gown. (Thank GOD my future sister-in-law has good taste.) Here is the problem: what I REALLY want to wear is a burka or some sort of head to toe garment made out of BLACK military-grade kevlar that will suck me in and flatten me out and make me look 50 pounds thinner.Sort of like military grade spanx. I cannot IMAGINE "floating" down the aisle in the bright pink satin and chiffon gown I purchased and looking "beautiful" in my current state of affairs! I have nightmares of relatives looking at me and thinking "Jesus, what the hell happened to HER?" Or - my worst nightmare scenariogoes like this: I walk down the aisle and some distant cousin looks at another and says: "Aww - poor thing - she's really let herself go."

Jesus. Put a bullet in me now and be done with it.

Here's the thing, I really haven't "Let Myself Go". I've let life get in the way. I work a crazy new job - a job that I love - but I keep crazy hours and I have no predictability in my schedule. One day I'm out of the house at 5:45am, the next day I'm here until noon and I'm not home until 6. When I'm home, I'm either working, cooking, cleaning, doing homework, laundry, ferrying someone to practice or one of my other 10,000 Mommy duties. AND I'm an emotional eater. I "reward" myself for a good job with Oreos. I console myself for a bad day with Oreos. I cure boredom with Oreos...see a pattern? Oh - and I HATE to excercise. HATE it. I hate to sweat. Hate to perspire, hate to be smelly, hate to be uncomfortable. I HATE every form of excercise - which, coupled with the Oreo addiction, makes the process of "letting myself go" pretty easy!

Now, for those of you who haven't seen me in a while, let me assure you - it's not like it's code red over here or anything. I'm not a candidate for The Biggest Loser. Richard Simmons wouldn't waste his time visiting me. We don't need to call the Emergency Squad to airlift me out of the house or anything like that. PC hasn't fitted me for the scooter. (Yet.) I'm just not where I want to be. I'm not happy in my skin right now. I don't like how I look - and being the vain and totally shallow person that I am - I'm hating it. I have great clothes that don't fit. And it totally sucks. So - it's time to do something - and walking around the block a few times just won't cut the mustard I'm afraid. Not if I'm going to look amazing for John's wedding. (OK - I don't have to look "amazing" - just not like Fatty Patty's sister - Tubby Theresa.)

It's time to break out the big guns...it's time to get serious and break out the P90X.

"What IS the P90X?" you ask. Well, it is a series of insane workout DVDs that focus on "muscle confusion" so that you loose fat at a rapid pace and build and define muscle and "get into the best shape of your life" in 90 days. WHY do I think I will be able to do this when marathon runners, cops, swimmers and other uber-athletes that I know have made comments like "Oh THAT? Those people are ANIMALS!" or "Oh - that was more like P88X for me because I only lasted 2 days." or - and this is my favorite - "Just be careful because after 2 or 3 days of that I couldn't use a toilet because I lost my ability to squat." Why do I think I can do this when I cannot complete Jillian Michael's "30-Day Shred" without throwing up and peeing my pants a little? The answer to that is: I really don't know. PC, while always encouraging, is actually a little afraid for me. OK - more than a little afraid. He thinks that this will kill me - as in actually put me in the ground. All I know is this - I have to do SOMETHING! I cannot stay the way I am right now. I must endeavor to break out of this Oreo rut. Glynnis is doing it too. Now - mind you - Glynnis is like 6 feet tall and 125 soaking wet - so she really doesn't NEED to shred anything. But she thinks I can do it.

I've had it for about 4 months - and I've been looking at it and looking at it. I finally opened it yesterday. After I wiped the layer of dust off of it - and watched the introduction DVD and read all of the introductory materials - it actually looks kind of sensible. Really, really hard - but sensible. So I'm going to try to start it tomorrow. I think the hardest part will be actually carving out the hour every day to do it. Once I can make that committment to myself - actually working thru the DVD might be the easy part. I'll keep you posted.......

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Well, I'm officially in mourning. Cory Haim was found dead this morning. An apparent OD - although there is no official report and that is just speculation.

I'm an official Tiger Beat widow.

When I heard the terrible news this morning - as I hear most of my celebrity death-watch news- via a facebook post, I remembered taking the life-altering "Which Lost Boy is Right for You?' quiz in 1987 from my beloved Tiger Beat magazine. The very same magazine that I would buy from Maxine's Five and Dime on Sundays after mass. That quiz - which I'm sure was put together by the same match-making geniuses who went on to found Match.com - told me that, based on the answers I provided - answers that came from hours upon hours of deep soul searching, I was meant to spend eternity with Cory Haim. My happily ever after was meant to be spent in the arms of the boy with the unruly, curly mop of sandy brown hair and the slightly upturned upper lip.

This news brought great joy to me. Although I was secretly hoping to steal Kiefer away from Julia - I knew in my heart that he was too old for me. Yes, Corey Haim was the perfect choice for me. I pictured us hand in hand on the red carpet at the Oscars. I pictured him winninhg his award and tearfully thanking me - his rock, his raison d'etre, the mother of his 8 children. I pictured us totally making out on the beach - like in the crashing waves. (Having absolutely NO experience making out in the waves - or anywhere else for that matter at the time - I didn't take into account the decidedly UNROMANTIC nature of sand in the bottom of the bikini and biting sand flies.) I would fantasize about us walking thru an airport together - hand in hand. For some reason - this image was the height of romance for me. The airport image would make my heart beat a mile a minute and just take my breath away. I had pictures of him in my journal and would practice kissing techniques on him. I wrote him love letters and planned our beautiful wedding in my little purple diary that had a unicorn on the cover.

I still have that diary. I opened it this afternoon and read those letters that expressed my innocent, unrequeited love for this boy - the funny boy with the curly hair and the upturned lip. And as I read, I really started to get sad! I started to wonder if anyone really DID love Corey Haim. I'm sure that there are thousands of us ladies in our mid to late thirties who are Tiger Beat widows tonight. Did he ever find one of us? Did he ever find a girl who really, truly loved him for him?

I joked today on my Facebook page that had we married, his life would have turned out differently. A dear old friend joked that the only thing that would have been different if we had married would be that instead of people wondering WHICH of the 80's Corey had passed away, people would have known that the 80's Corey married to ME had passed away. But I beg to disagree! I really want to think that if he had married me - or someone who truly, truly loved him - as the 13-year old version of myself thought she did - that maybe his life would have turned out differently. Maybe he wouldn't have turned to drugs and booze for comfort. If he had found his soulmate - the woman who completed him - his true other half - maybe- just maybe - he would have been up on that stage Sunday night, tearfully thanking his rock, his raison d'etre, mother of his 8 kids.

Now before you guys get all up in my grill - I realize that addiction is a powerful demon. I'm not that 13-year old girl anymore. I've seen addiction up close. I know how powerful it is. I've witnessed it's destructive ugliness. I know that love does not conquer all. But it sure does conquer a lot. Maybe it could have saved him. Stranger things have happened.

I'm sure in the coming days there will be reports on his "final moments". There will undoubtedly be the "911" call on some website or TV show. There will be overviews of "What went wrong" and countless magazine articles about "A Real Life Lost Boy". And, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure that Corey Feldman will get his 15 minutes from this whole thing too. We'll see footage of the funeral, a flower covered casket, weeping family members...and a weeping Corey Feldman. But I hope that somewhere in the crowd, there will be a weeping girl - a heartbroken girl who lost the love of her life. And as sick as that sounds - I really mean it. I hope that he had that. I hope that he had someone who loved him.

So, I will bid my Tiger Beat soulmate farewell in my own, private way. I will bid adieu to the sandy haired, mop-topped boy with that ever-so-sexy upturned lip and I will pray that he finds peace and love in heaven. And maybe, just maybe, one day - 100 years from now when I walk through the pearly gates, if I've been a REALLY good girl - Corey Haim will meet me and take me to the beach for one totally rad night.....

Saturday, March 6, 2010

So, the tooth fairy paid us a visit last night. Bella lost another tooth - probably one of the last she will loose for a while.

The tooth fairy looked like hell. He was wearing a big, bulky sweater, he was pale as a ghost and had shadows under his eyes, was shivering and sweating all at the same time. Sounds like a horror movie - huh? Nope. Sadly, it was just PC. He remembered the whole tooth fairy thing before he came to bed. He is suffering from a stomach virus that is raging thru the schools and our house right now. Mrs. Tooth Fairy was sound asleep when this vision of tooth fairy horror woke me up to ask: "Do you have a dollar bill in your wallet? Bella lost a tooth." (In my defense, I've been travelling and fell asleep with Jack while putting him to bed.")And, as I looked at him, all diseased and pale with a slight green tint to his clammy skin in the moonlight, I realized 2 things:

1. This is why I married this man. because even with a raging fever and dysentary-like symptoms - he's got my back.

and

2. I think Bella is milking this tooth fairy thing for every penny she can get.

Now, as anyone who knows her will tell you - Bella is a really sweet kid. She is kind, she is loyal and she's nothing if not funny as hell. She once told Sookie that "You should NEVER marry a man you've only known for 2 seconds!" This tidbit of wisdom came as they were watching "Enchanted" and Giselle fell out of a tree into Prince Edward's waiting arms. The prince shouts "Giselle! We shall be married in the morning!" And Bella was appalled! She also announced that my future sister-in-law should "put (my brother) in his place and show him who wears the pants in this relationship!" This bit of pre-marital advice came after we told her that her future aunt would not be on "Say Yes to the Dress!" because my brother didn't want her to do the show. Now - this story was just my way of getting Bella to drop it, mind you - but Bella was OUTRAGED. WHO in their right mind wouldn't want to be on "Say YES to the Dress!"? Understand that next to her father, Bella loves no one in the world as much as she loves and adores my brother. But even Bella's love and adoration has it's limits.

This wisdom-beyond-her-years is precisely why Bella's ardent belief in the tooth fairy is a little hard to believe as she is about to turn 9. Now, to be fair, PC and I are guilty of going a bit over-the-top with creating "the magic of childhood." The tooth fairy used to visit our house like she visits everyone else's house. She came, took the tooth and replaced it with a bill or 2. Until Bella confronted me about 2 years ago and said "Mom, I think the tooth-fairy is just you and Daddy." Looking back, the sane and mature thing to do would have been to say "Yup - you've got me. The gig is up." However, the sane and mature scenario didn't really enter my mind at that point. What was going through my mind was "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! WE"RE GOING DOWN!!!!!" I had visions of the Easter Bunny being blown up by a land mine as he hopped. happily through a green, grassy, pastel-egg filled field. I saw Santa and his sleigh being shot down from the snowy, Christmas sky, landing on our front lawn in a bloody tangle of antlers, sleigh bells and assorted Barbie Dream House pieces. So, I did what any slightly insane person in my place would do - I LIED. I lied like a rug. I lied through my teeth. I said "Well, I hope the tooth fairy doesn't hear you saying that - because when you stop believing - she stops coming."

The look of sheer terror in my 6-year old's eyes still haunts me.

"I believe, I believe!!!" She screamed. She wrote a letter to the tooth fairy telling her that "despite what you might have heard earlier today, I REALLY DO believe in you. And please keep leaving me money because if you don't I will never be able to go to Target and buy anything. My mom never gives me money." She taped her tooth to the letter and shoved the whole thing under her pillow. Then, she prayed. "Dear God, please tell the tooth fairy that I believe in her. Tell her that it was ____ (insert bad child's name here) in school who told me that his mom was the tooth fairy and that I didn't believe him for a minute. And please let me wake up with a mermaid tail. Amen." (Oh, yes - Bella prayed for about 3 or 4 years to wake up with a mermaid tail instead of legs.)

So, instead of just letting the whole matter drop - PC and I decided to go the distance. PC wrote back to Bella. He typed up a letter that explained that sometimes we have to believe in things we don't see and that the magic of fairies lives in our hearts - or some such crap. Then he printed it in a teeny-tiny pink font and cut it out with PINKING SHEARS - so it looked more "fairy-like". I took special gold glitter and sprinkled it from the window across the carpet, up the side of the bed, on the canopy and all over the pillow and her cheek. Needless to say - she went APE-SHIT when she woke up. Then, she went into school and told the child who spilled the beans that his mom and dad were, indeed, HIS tooth fairy as the REAL tooth fairy would NEVER pay a visit to such a thoughtless and ungrateful little boy.

PC and I are ALMOST done paying his therapy bills.

In all seriousness- I wonder what we've created by enhancing these already magical and mystical childhood characters. Have we created magical and amazing memories that she will revel in re-creating for her children and grandchildren one day? Or - have we set her up for HUGE disappointment once she realizes that good old mom and dad are compulsive liars? Maybe I really should have told her the truth about the tooth fairy at 6. I would wager that a child psychologist would have told me to be honest with her. But I just couldn't do it. Because once the tooth fairy gig is up - it's just a matter of time before they start questioning EVERYTHING. And I wasn't ready to say goodbye to Santa and the Easter Bunny. And I don't think Bella was either.

I've heard that the summer between 3rd and 4th grade is when many kids start questioning - really questioning - Santa Claus. I've also heard that 4th grade is when somebody swaggers into class and announces that there IS NO SANTA CLAUS - MY PARENTS TOLD ME. Now, while I'd bet that PC will want to swagger in to school and kick some 9-year old ass, I don't know how I'll feel. I know that there will be part of me that will want to hire a guy to break into the house on Dec. 24th decked out in a Santa suit and make a racket and wake everyone up as he leaves the house. I want her to stay little for as long as she can. I want her to believe in magic and in fairies and unicorns. I want her to believe that PC and I can solve every problem and protect her from all of the things that go bump in the night.

I had a sinking feeling this past Christmas that this might be the last Santa Christmas for Bella. And that made me extremely sad. I've only had 8 of them. And the first and second ones didn't really count, because she didn't know who the hell Santa was. So, in reality, I've only had 6 really good Santa Christmases. Is that all we get? I felt a HUGE pressure to make this Christmas as magical and special for her as I possibly could. She wanted those Zhu Zhu pets - the ones that no one could get this past Christmas. So I pulled strings and called in favors and had some really amazing people help me - and I managed to get 3 of them. And I thought that just maybe, scoring these impossible to find toys might, just might, buy me another year. But I don't think it's going to happen. On Christmas Eve, during mass, she turned to my brother and asked him, out of the blue, if there really was a Santa Claus. And of course, he told her that there was and that he believed in Santa. But I can tell - she's questioning it all. I know that this Christmas, while she won't admit that she has her doubts, that she'll have serious doubts. Just like I know that she knows that PC and I are the tooth fairy. And it makes me incredbly sad. While I love watching her grow into the amazing person she is becoming - I miss that little girl with the curls who believed everything I told her. The little girl who used to pray for a mermaid tail is now praying for a "nice B cup" - no joke. The little girl who used to beg me to read her Elmo books is now reading the biography of Amelia Arehart. The little girl who used to let me put bows in her angel-fine hair is now asking for a training bra from Justice.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Oiy-vehy! Did you ever have a day that started out in an unexpected way? We all have - and today it was my turn. This morning was a hectic morning. I was up with the sun, had to be out the door before school drop-off...which as any mother knows, involves mental, physical and logistical gymnastics the likes of which many olympic gymnasts would be unable to perform. I had to have breakfasts premade, lunches ready, clothing and uniforms ready to go, glasses at their appointed spot at the breakfast table, bookbags packed and at the front door, children woken earlier than usual - which resulted in cranky, upset children, which resulted in the obligatory momma-drama when I tried to get out of the door... and all of this had to happen BEFORE my weekly 7am call with my boss. In the midst of all of this chaos, I of course checked my personal email. I do this every morning with my coffee because my daughter's school does have a habit of sending out emails that pertain to that day's events late at night and early in the morning. (Keep in mind that "late at night" is after 8pm in my world.) And what to my wondering eyes should appear? A "friend" request from my facebook account.

Now, normally, this would not cause me a second thought - I approve about 99% of the friend requests that I get. As many of you know, I've travelled quite a bit and have had quite a few jobs and have been fortunate enough to have made AMAZING friends and contacts along the way. Combine those people with old friends from grade school, the town I grew up in, high school and college and I have the normal sized 100+ "friend" list on facebook. I think the 100-200 "friend" list is pretty average on FB for people in their mid...ok, ok,late thirties. (excuse me while I cry for a moment) Yes, I know people who have over 400 people as their Facebook "friends". These people must "friend" their dry cleaners, and mailmen and all of the check-out people at the grocery store because there is no way in heck that a normal person has that many "friends" that he or she can realistically stay in touch with. Either that or they are a member of some sort of cult - that requires them to "friend" over 350 people in order to join. Like a geeky gang initiation ritual. But I digress....back to this morning's friend request.

So, as I'm sipping my decaf (that's another story) I get this friend request from a name that I don't recognize. That is the first bad sign. If you don't even recognize the person's name...why would they want to be your facebook friend? So, because I don't have enough to do this morning, I decide to investigate who the heck this person is. And low and behold - I DO know this person. In fact, I used to know her very, very well. Key word there? "USED TO" - as in don't know her any more. Now - I know what you're thinking..."Well, isn't that what Facebook is all about? Getting back in touch with people you haven't spoken to in a long time, Mary?" And yes, dear, brilliant readers, it IS. It IS for getting back in touch with old friends who you've lost touch with - not because anything happened between you - but because life took you in different directions. I just got back in touch with a dear old friend I used to teach with. She moved away and we lost touch - because life was happening to us both. And we've reconnected over FB - and it's WONDERFUL to see pictures of her BEAUTIFUL children and hear how she's doing. One of my old work buddies lives in Hawaii - and I know what's happening in her life because of FB - and we chat and it's terrific. I keep in touch with all of my cousins thru FB - and it's awesome to know what everyone is up to everyday - because we are spread all over the country.

However...this person and I lost touch for a reason. To protect the innocent...and not so innocent - all I'll say is that this person and I were very close at one point in our lives and then - things changed. I believe the last words I spoke to her were - and I quote: "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!" And then - I called her a name. Now WHY on EARTH would you want to be my Facebook friend after that????? In the interest of privacy -and in the interest of keeping my loyal blog readers - all 3 of you - I will say that she deserved it. And MORE - trust me. She should have been ...well - we'll leave that for another posting. But all of that was a long, long, long time ago. And it was a VERY bad time in her life. A time that, if I were her, I would not be wanting to revisit any time soon - like as in ever. And if there was one person I would NOT want to reconnect with - it would be ME. I witnessed all of the stuff that no one in their right mind would want anyone remembering or bringing back up.

Frankly - if I had gone thru some of the stuff this person went thru and had done some of the things she did and KNEW that there was someone out there who witnessed it ALL...I'd move to another PLANET before I'd ever willingly make contact with them again. Friends - I would go out to the wilderness and live in a tent before I'd voluntarily contact them again. And for those of you who know me - that's saying ALOT.

So, all day I've been thinking: "Why on earth would this person want to "friend" me on Facebook?" The grown-up, mature person that I am (or that I would like to think that I am) tells me that this person has also grown up and changed since back-in-the-day. And I'm sure she has. We all have. Who among us would like to be judged by our actions of 15+ years ago? Heck - I don't want to be judged by my actions of this past weekend, let alone by the things I did in my teens and early twenties! Maybe she has normalized and is in a healthy place and uses FB like the rest of us. Maybe she's curious about what has become of her snarky, name-calling ex-friend. Maybe she genuinely wishes me well and wants to see evidence of the wonderful life that I've made for myself. And I'd like to belive that - I really, really would.

But I don't. Not for a minute. Because while I can sit here and rationalize why I shouldn't judge her by how she behaved 15+ years ago - unfortunately, 15+ years ago was my last experience with her. And it went beyond unpleasant - it was bat-shit crazy. Crazy like destructive crazy. Crazy like - "only the fittest survive here bitch," crazy. And while I truly hope she did get her life together and that she is happy and in a great, terrific place, I'm just not willing to re-open that particular chapter of my life. I'm not willing to risk re-inviting that level of chaos and destructiveness into my life.

So, this got me thinking about my list of Facebook "friends". And how many of them are actually my "friends". Many of them are acquaintences - and I'd guess that many of us have lists that are well populated with old friends and acquaintences. But what about the people who we've friended who aren't really our friends? Who we don't even really like? What do you do with these people? I'll admit - I have "unfriended" one person. Not because I don't like him - but because I couldn't stand his posts and I didn't know that you could "hide" someone's posts back then. So it was not a hostile "unfriending" in any way. I do have someone that I am going to unfriend. Someone that I've unfriended in every other way, I just haven't gotten around to unfriending him on my FB account yet. He's not even worth that effort - not even worth the click. And I do mean that in a hostile sort of way. (See - I'm still the same mean, name caller.)

What do you do about the people on FB that play games and collect trees and hearts and eggs and all of their activity pops up when you log in? That drives me NUTS!!! I don't care what your farm has on it or what you won in Mafia Wars. I want to know what my cousins are up to. I want to see what my friends have to SAY - not what they play! Should I unfriend these people as well? Should I hide their posts? To save myself the aggravation of reading about their farms and wars and whatnot???

And as I write this, I wonder - how did our mothers and grandmothers keep in touch with one another? Their world was so much smaller back in the days before Facebook and emails and Twitter and computers and even before telephones. They didn't have these "friending" and "unfriending" dilemmas. They had other things to worry about - like ERA and Roe v. Wade and the civil rights movement and polio. They had REAL issues to worry about. Not that my "friending" dilemma isn't important. Just maybe not on the scale of say the polio epidemic back in the day.....

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About Me

I'm really one busy momma - I'm a full time mom of two AWESOME kids - my daughter, who we'll call Bella or "she-who-shall-not-be-named" in this blog, is 14 years old. She is anything but your "typical" teenager. There is nothing "typical" about her. She's an amazingly talented, outgoing, gentle girl who makes my heart sing. She also makes my wallet scream...but that's how it goes! My son is 11. He plays club soccer and baseball. Sports are his life. He is also a budding chef and loves to make dinner for the family.My husband, who would like to be called "Mr. Big" in this blog, is an all around prince and good guy who puts up with me and all of my quirkiness and "great ideas". I call him PC in the blog - for Prince Charming. We have built an incredible life together - a life that I wouldn't trade for anyone else's.